Sense
by rahaliacat
Summary: Six short fics in which Qui-Gon agonises his way through the senses regarding Obi-Wan
1. Scent

**sense ~ 1 ~ scent**

_I saw the two of us as happy children, free to wander in the Paradise of sorrow. We were in harmony with each other. With great emotion, we worked together. Yet, after some deeply affecting embrace, he would say: "How strange it will seem to you, when I'm not here any more, all that you have gone through. When you no longer feel my arms around your neck, nor my heart to rest on, nor my kisses on your eyes. Because I shall have to go away one day, very far away. There are others I have to help as well: that is my task. Not that I have any taste for it..., my darling..." And immediately I could imagine myself, with him gone, gripped by dizzy fear, hurled into the most horrible blackness: into death. I made him promise he wouldn't leave me. He made that lover's promise twenty times over. It was about as serious as me saying to him: "I understand you."_  
[Rimbaud: "First Delerium - The Infernal Bridegroom", from "A Season In Hell"]

*******

From the shower you smell clean...  
From the garden you smell fresh...  
But from the training hall you smell best...

Over these many years, my young Padawan, your body has assaulted mine deliciously. I find it difficult to comprehend how you can be so unaware of it, but every time I feel myself succumbing to your unconscious beauty, the vision of your wide, clear eyes looking openly into mine snaps me back into wretched clarity and I wonder if you are really as innocent to my emotions as you make out.

We trained until late into the night, forsaking evening meal for the unspoken and unacknowledged need to expend nervous energy. I knew that you were perfectly aware of my edginess, that it had unsettled you also. You reached out across our bond, but I could not share with you what I was feeling at that moment. All I sensed was a deep mental sigh before you withdrew, raising your lightsabre for another bout, your body twisting and merging with mine, as we delighted in the grace and controlled power that our training demands of us.

The hall was empty by the time we were done, both drenched in sweat, both exhausted, both deciding at the same time that enough was enough. A weary grin lit your face and I smiled in return. You looked like an oveheated spineback: your hair sticking up in all directions, your cheeks flushed, your skin gleaming and your eyes glowing that unfathomable colour that I could never pin down to either blue, green or grey.

You crossed the floor to where I stood, hooking my lightsabre back onto my belt. I felt your palm clamp down onto my shoulder as you moved closer to laugh softly up at me.

"Not bad for an old man," you smiled, teasing me gently.

I replied with an avuncular clip around your ear, which you avoided easily, ducking and coming back up to face me.

"You missed," you whispered, standing on tiptoe so that your nose was level with mine and planting a swift kiss on my lips. I shivered as you drew away from me; the heated scent of you lingering in the air around me. 

"So," you mused, fetching both our cloaks. "Dare I ask what brought this on, Master?"

"You may not," I replied, quite unable to admit my emotions, even to my beloved Padawan as he settled my cloak over my shoulders and we walked from the hall.

How could I tell you that I loved you so much I feared losing you; feared what it would do to me? How could I tell you that beyond the training bond we had I could sense the faint stirrings of a bond much deeper, much greater, much more capabable of causing irreparable damage if one of us were to die. I had tried to ignore it, but its calls grew louder every day. I had tried to tell myself that I could cope with losing you; indeed, I _knew_ I could cope, albeit with a shattered heart. But I knew, also, from the way your eyes shone when they looked at me, that you would be utterly destroyed should I be torn from you by death.

And this, more than anything, made me close my emotions down, shuttering the deepest recesses of my mind from you. I knew you were hurt by it, but you would be hurt far more by the truth that you were so unaware of as you smiled up at me outside the door to our rooms.

I sank onto the couch, watching through narrowed eyes as you folded gracefully before me, kneeling in that endearing, childish, feet-tucked-in way of yours. You leaned forward, your fingers picking at the buckles of my boots, undoing them one by one, sometimes brushing my knee through the fabric of my leggings. I stifled a moan, not wanting to distract you from your task as each buckle fell to your nimble, elegant fingers.

Your palm cupped my left heel firmly, your other hand closed around my toes and you gently eased the boot from my foot, setting it down beside you. The same tender care was afforded to my other foot, and you placed the boots at the side of the couch; next to each other, in perfect symmetry. 

Your cool fingers once more cradled my left foot, stroking the skin softly, caressing the arch, smoothing down over the toes. Maddeningly ticklish, yes, but utterly delightful. 

"Your feet ache, Master?" you asked as I flinched minutely at gentle pressure upon a tender spot. Without waiting for my reply, you unfurled yourself, telling me, "wait one moment," and vanishing into the bathroom. I glanced around the room, helplessly casting for an excuse to delay what I had sensed you were about to do. You had done it many times before, taking your interpretation of your duties as my Padawan to newer, more erotic heights, and yet always with that same innocence of intention. The very first time you had washed my feet had been a blessed relief, for I had been footsore and weary, but over the years it had become much more than that, until the point it had now reached: an almost unbearably sensual act.

You emerged from the bathroom bearing a shallow bowl and a pitcher full of steaming hot water. Setting the bowl down at my feet, you placed the pitcher beside it and once more took my left foot in your hand, gently encouraging it into the bowl. You raised the pitcher, tilting it, still cradling my heel in your palm as the hot water cascaded down.

A delicious scent rose in the air, and I recognised it immediately as the perfumed oil with which you anointed your own sweet skin before we made love. It was an aroma that I had come to adore, even though it masked the true scent of you, which I treasured far more.

Tender hands caressed my foot, splashing the hot, scented water over it, massaging aching instep and arch, fingertips tickling between my toes even as I squirmed and you laughed softly. My tensions and worries were all dissipating rapidly as you covered your lap with a soft, white towel and lifted my foot onto it, drying me thoroughly before treating my other foot to the same attentions. By the time both feet were washed and dry I was pleasantly languid enough not to realise why you were bending your graceful neck, until your lips touched the tops of my feet with gentle kisses.

"Obi-Wan__" I started to protest, but you raised your head and those eyes of yours looked right into me. Oceanic in their depth, they searched my very soul.

"There is no need for you to__" I tried again.

You silenced me by reaching up and placing a soft finger across my lips. "I _want_ to," you whispered.

I subsided, quivering, as the scent of the oil touched my senses once more, mixed with everything of you, threatening to set me afire with need. Your heat reached out to me through the thick garments we both wore and the hard-earned sweat of effort on your skin taunted me. I could barely shield my desire to touch you, to taste you, but hide it I had to. However, I couldn't bear to have you so close... so raw... so hot...

You resolved my dilemma almost as if you had read my tightly-shuttered mind, rising slowly and taking the bowl and pitcher back into the bathroom. I could hear you switching the shower over from sonic to water, and I groaned softly as I glanced at the still-open door.

I swear, by Force, that you were trying to tempt me. Never before had you left the bathroom door open; always preferring to shower in quiet privacy, treating it almost as a meditation, some kind of deep cleansing ritual for both body and mind.

The rhythm of pouring water was broken into irregular splatters as you obviously stepped beneath the spray. I closed my mind to the images that presented themselves to it, but my body cried out to witness them. My eyes needed to see you and I could no more stop my feet from taking me to the open bathroom door than I could halt a herd of panicked, charging banthas.

Already, I regretted buying you the gift. Now that it was in my possession, practically burning a hole in the pouch that hung at my belt, I would have to present it to you, to acknowledge my reason for buying it: a reason that would surely have you gifting me in return with one of your beautiful, wide, delighted smiles before you sank into my arms and tormented me with your lips until I caved in and gave you a more physical reward. You would ease my aching feet and heart and I would once more lose myself in the bliss that is my beautiful young Padawan, only to wake in the morning in your arms, cursing myself for taking advantage of your open and trusting nature.

Don't get me wrong, love: you are so good for me. You can quiet my anxious thoughts, energise this tired old body and brighten my life more than the suns. When I take you into my arms and bury myself deep into you, nothing feels more right, more _perfect_, but always afterwards this fledgling bond seems to have grown a little more, strengthened its hold a little tighter. I begin to wonder if what we do is wise. Should I distance myself from you? Could I even bear to do it?

I peeked through the gap in the door, my mouth suddenly becoming drier than the sands of Tattooine. I had my answer: No, I could _not_ bear it. You, with your sweet, impulsive nature, would - if you knew of its existence - simply smile, hug me and suggest that we both embrace it. 

Maybe it was time I took a few steps back from myself and embraced _you_ a little more. Maybe, just maybe it was time to stop lecturing you to live in the moment, and live in it a little bit myself.

Hmf... time to give in, I suppose...

  
  



	2. Sight

**sense ~ 2~ sight**

_As a child, certain skies sharpened my vision: every character finely affected my features. Phenomena shifted about. - Now, the endless inflexion of moments and the infinity of mathematics drive me through this world where I experience every civil success, respected by strange children and unbounded affection. - I dream of a War, of justice or of might, of logic quite beyond expectation._

It is as simple as a musical phrase. [Rimbaud: "War", from "Illuminations"] 

*******

Your body was no longer new to me, both visually and physically. I had drunk my fill of its beauty and its pleasures, yet I remained thirsty, and still the sight of it crushed the breath from my lungs. 

Tall, lean and muscled like some fine hunting beast, it twisted and turned beneath the hot spray of the water shower as if for my sight alone. You had unbraided the long tail that you wore by your right ear to denote your status as a Padawan learner, and it lay in a slick golden-red line over your gleaming wet shoulder. I knew that you would ask me to rebraid it for you later: a small ritual of ours that we performed daily, reaffirming your devotion to me and my care for you. 

You reached out to adjust the temperature of the water, gasping softly as the heat increased, stinging your skin and lending to it a deep rosy flush like that of desire. I realised that I was holding my breath as I watched you, and I wondered just how long I could go on doing so before the air escaped me in a groan of pure need. Surely not long, when you were moving like this...

*******

And what has moulded this body? My guidance. My discipline. My hands. I am possibly more familiar with it than you are yourself. I know every mark, every scar; I can read the history of your training, drawn like a map upon your skin. You are physically as close to perfect as it is possible to be: quick, lightly-muscled, fleet of foot and powerful. Perhaps you have not as much grace of movement as I would desire: your katas are as unhurried as they need to be, and yet always I sense the energy that you give to even the slowest of movements. You possess a barely-controlled power that takes my breath from me; a restrained urgency that warns of a sudden, unexpected pounce. 'Any second now...' it seems to say.

And yet, at other times you are practically horizontal in your attitude. A lazy quirk of an eyebrow, a cool flick of the hand and all that constrained Force energy is nowhere to be seen. You are duality personified.

And persuasion... oh, you have _that_ in abundance! A slip of the tongue, a graceless error when performing a kata: all glossed over with a cheeky smile, a glint in the eye and a winning demeanour that has nothing to do with the Force and everything to do with you.

So beautiful...

*******

I indulged that day in several long, delicious glances as you moved beneath the hot spray; white suds sliding down your wet skin as you rinsed them from your hair. I could not prevent ghostly Force fingers reaching out from me to touch you. They tickled the sensitive nape of your neck and I watched you shudder, your lips parting. You reached out to me through our bond, willing me to do it again.

I could not resist and the energy from me stroked down your spine, causing a breathless whimper to escape your lips. You turned drowsy eyes onto me; a slow, sensual smile curving your beautiful mouth.

_Why only Force fingers, my Master? Why not your own?_

Why, indeed? Because I couldn't trust my own. I realised that I was still resisting, after all this time; after I'd promised myself I would live in the here and now.

I smiled and sent the Force out anew, watching as your body caved into its touch.

_ Master! This isn't fair!_

_Who told you love was fair, Padawan?_

Oh dear... that sort of slipped out...

You stared at me with huge eyes that I could happily have fallen into, never to surface again. Force! I was becoming a fool - to think such a sentimental thing as that!

"Love?" you said, aloud.

I willed my customary implacable mask back down, trying to cover my sudden vulnerability. Before it could snap completely over me, your mind gripped it, lifted it and insinuated beneath it.

_Love?_ you repeated.

In desperation, I again sent out tendrils of Force energy to caress your body; a last attempt to distract you.

_No_ You pushed them away. You had me, then, and nothing was going to make you let me go.

"You love me?" you whispered, a spark of hope flaring in your eyes that was as unexpected to me as it was beautiful to behold. For a brief moment I allowed sentiment to muddle my thinking once more. Could I have been so blind? All this time, when I had presumed your attentiveness had been borne of the duty and adoration that a Padawan usually holds towards his Master... all this time, it had been because you loved me in return?

A tentative thought reached me, even as I struggled with these emotions: a gentle hand stroked my heart, which I had unwittingly left open and unguarded. A flicker of joy followed it as you sensed what I had withheld from you.

_Oh..!_

With incredible difficulty, I finally brought down the mask of calm, feeling you pulling back, uncertainly from me even as serenity washed me like a tidal wave. When I spoke, however, the tenderness I had felt was still evident in my voice.

"Finish your shower, Padawan, and I will braid your hair for you."

I turned away from you and walked back into the common room, my heart heavy, the gift I had bought for you weighing more than a ball of lead. I knew where this night would lead, knew the trouble it would cause, but though I fought it as only a Jedi can, I knew my struggles were futile. The new bond was shimmering at the edge of my existence, almost touching me, and there was nothing more I could do to hold it back. 

It was time, at last, to reach out and grasp it.


	3. Touch

**sense ~ 3 ~ touch**

_I shall return, with limbs of iron, a dark skin, and angry eyes: from my mask, people will think I belong to a strong race. I shall have gold: I shall be idle and brutal. Women nurse such invalids on their return from the tropics. I shall be involved in politics. Saved._

But for now I am damned, I loathe my native land. I'd best fall into an utterly drunken sleep, by the sea-shore.

[Rimbaud: "Bad Blood", from "A Season In Hell"] 

*******

I sank down onto the couch with a soft sigh, waiting for you to finish your shower, determined to analyse this tentative new bond.

Withdrawing into myself, I chanced a closer look at it; staying well back for now, not allowing it to touch me, even though it nudged at me like some kind of fawning pet.

It was white. No, it was silvery-white, and it was absolutely beautiful: soft and yet glittering, shifting in the light of the Force like a ribbon of life, like an entity unto itself.

I asked it what it was: indeed, I reached out and demanded that it identify itself. A single word whispered back inside my mind.

_One_

I mentally drew away. A Bond of One... Sith be damned, it _couldn't_ be! I had heard of such a thing, but never known of one in recent times. Even Master Yoda had not been able to recall an occurrence when we had discussed it once.

It would be an incredible thing to experience, and yet a terrifying one. I longed to let it take me and join me to you so entirely that I would feel as if I lived in you as well as myself. But the rational part of me pulled me back sharply from it, knowing that it could seriously jeopardise the nature of our work were we to give into it. How could we fight an enemy together if each of us was within the other so deeply that a single blaster bolt could kill us both?

And yet... to fight as one... what an advantage _that_ would be...

"Master?"

I snapped into reality, reluctantly opening my eyes and pushing the bond away from me. You sat beside me on the couch, waiting for me to rebraid your hair for you.

I controlled my breathing with difficulty. You had not exactly made this easy for me: sitting before me in nothing but damp skin, made rosy by the brisk touch of the white towel that you had wrapped about your slender hips. Your hair gleamed like wet bronze, hugging your scalp where you had smoothed it back. Tiny droplets of water glistened on the longer strands, occasionally relinquishing their hold to splatter onto your shoulders.

The long tail of hair that draped over your right shoulder was already almost dry, glinting in the low light, soft and feathered. It hugged the curve of your throat and followed the cut of your exquisite collarbone. It was all I could do to prevent myself from pushing you back and kissing you hard and I willed my fingers to remain steady as I reached for the pouch that hung on my belt, withdrawing the smaller of my gifts for you.

Usually, you wrapped your braid in two colours: red and yellow. But since this day was special...

I saw the slight widening of your eyes as you glimpsed the skeins of costly gold and silver thread that I rested upon my knee before taking the tail of hair between my fingers, stroking and smoothing it.

Too dry... already it was feathering softly, promising a messy braid, and I wanted you to be perfect tonight. Leaning forward into the heat that surrounded you, I heard your sharp intake of breath as I placed my mouth behind your ear; my tongue finding the very root of the long tail, curling around it and drawing it into my mouth. Slowly, I moved away, drawing your silky hair through my mouth, wetting it once more, sensing the quickening within you as you watched.

The last section of tail slipped from my lips; a sleek ribbon once more. Dividing it into three, I set one end of each thread to the outer sections, behind your ear. I worked carefully, slowly, tucking in the thread as I went, incorporating it into the weaving of the braid. Usually, I simply wrapped your hair at two points, but - as I said - this night was special, and I wanted your true beauty to shine like the thread.

Several inches down from your ear, I stopped braiding and pulled the silver thread free from its section of hair. Leaning forward again, I bit the thread off some way down the skein and wound it carefully around the braid where I had stopped. Tucking the end in, I continued with the three sections and the remaining gold thread, sitting as close to you as I could get without being practically in your lap, leaning into your body, my breath washing your skin. I could sense the effort it was costing you not to cry out, and it matched my own struggles. At the edge of my vision the bond flickered, dangerously.

A few more inches of braiding, and then again I extricated the thread, biting it off and winding it around the final section. I fumbled in the pouch for the gift I had bought you. It had cost a great deal, been excruciatingly hard to find and even harder to secure from the dealer, but you were worth every dactare, every heated word... I pulled it from the pouch and watched with undisguised delight as your eyes widened.

"A Star Stone?" you murmured, gazing at the tiny, iridescent bead that rested in my large palm; looking ridiculously small there, and yet radiating an incredible, multicoloured luminosity. Such beauty from such a tiny thing.

"My gift to you," I smiled, threading the bead onto the braid and securing it with the remaining gold thread.

"But... Master... the cost of a Star Stone... such expense!"

I allowed myself a chuckle. Ever-prudent and unwilling to accept costly gifts, my Padawan. You would rather I gave you a simple moonflower plucked from the gardens than a huge lump of gold.

"It is a special day, Padawan," I said, reluctant to let go of the soft braid of hair. "An anniversary of great importance to both of us."

Your brow creased, a tiny furrow folding the smooth skin as you tried to recall. It was not your name day, nor the day I took you as my Padawan. In fact, I could see in your eyes that it was no day that you could imagine worthy of such a gift.

"I give up, master," you sighed, "and I apologise for forgetting it. What day _is_ it?"

I kissed the very end of your nose, my lips caressing that tip-tilt that I adored so much.

"It was one year ago this night that I took you as my lover, Obi-Wan. My own, beautiful Obi-Wan..."

The silence that stretched between us grew to a thousand moments of peace in each others' arms, shared across the training bond that had strengthened so much over the past year. I watched as you closed your eyes, willing the Force into two hands identical to your own in tenderness and touch. They caressed my face, mapping every feature and tracing every line and plane. I felt them loosen the thong at the crown of my head and I shivered at the sensation of those invisible fingers gently unbinding my hair, drawing it gently over my shoulders.

An amused twinkle glimmered in your eyes as you sensed my restlessness.

_It was you that insisted on using Force fingers, my Master..._

_Cheeky young pup!_

Melodic laughter across our bond made me smile. You were so open, so receptive; all your shields and defences down. I should have been more careful, should have watched and recognised the signs, but your eyes and laughter had drawn me too deeply into you, blinding me for one, brief, fateful moment. By the time I realised what was happening, it was too late.

The Bond of One had touched you and you had embraced it. It encircled you like a white ribbon, sliding across your consciousness, ensnaring you, binding your heart and soul. It was only when I felt that silken touch snagging at my partially-raised shields that I knew what had happened.

_Oh... Force..._

You reached for me, both with the Force and your own sweet hands. I felt trapped, bound, constricted... struggling futilely; all my strength to no avail against this unfettered love that was enmeshing me. Your lips met mine, coaxing me to you and I could feel with rising despair that your soul essence was merging with mine.

*******

Faint flicker from my old Master...

_Special, this is. Embrace it, you shall, Padawan_

_Master, no! Too dangerous!_

_Watched while this thing grew, we did. Loosen your heart, it will. Control it, you must_

_But... Obi-Wan..._

_Your life, he is, and always was. No greater gift to give in return for your love, has he. Embrace it_

*******

Stars shattered behind my eyes as the incredible light that surrounded your love touched me finally, binding my heart to yours and drawing me from myself. Such shocking tenderness... such kisses... such incredible love... Sith's teeth! This would _kill_ me before it bound me to you! Never before had I experienced anything like this. An explosion of light within me made me groan softly, struggling for sanity, and then everything was still.

I ventured a glance at you. You lay, trembling in my embrace, rocked to the core by the bonding we had just survived. You turned wide, shocked eyes up to meet mine.

"Wh... what was _that_?" you husked.

"A new bond, love," I murmured, tightening my hold upon you ever so slightly, fearing to let you go. "A Bond of One."

Your lips parted as if to speak, and then hesitated as you realised you already knew what it was, even though you had never heard of it before.

"How... how come I know that?" Your voice was small, lost.

"Because you are within me and I am within you." I kissed your forehead tenderly. "My memories and thoughts are yours, as yours are mine."

"Gods..." you whispered, shakily.

I gently untangled your limbs from mine. "I don't know about you, Padawan, but I could do with a drink," I said, hoarsely, before I froze in mid-movement. Our eyes met as the sensation swam through me: you _did_ need that drink as much as I, and I was utterly aware of it.

"Force," I muttered. "This will take some getting used to."

"Master," you said quietly. "I think that only _you_ will need that drink."

I glanced at you. "I sensed your thirst, Obi-Wan," I murmured, pouring two glasses. you took one from me and raised it to your lips.

"Then wait while I drink mine," you said, sipping it slowly.

I sank to my knees, trembling with shock as the taste of the drink rolled around my mouth; as its alcoholic heat burned down my throat, slowly warming my belly.

Instantly, you were on your knees beside me, raising my face, cupping it in your palms and pressing your lips to mine. I couldn't resist reaching out to caress your arm, and I jumped like a startled animal as I felt the touch on my own skin. Searching your mind, I realised that you could feel your palms cupping your own face just as surely as they held mine.

You drew back from me, your eyes sparkling with unshed tears. Emotions welled in me that I never thought a human could experience and still live.

"As one," you whispered. "This is... it's..." You shook your head, fumbling for the right words.

"Wonderful," I supplied, seeing you smile.

"I was just going to say that," you husked.

Laughter; a little hysterical, at that.

"Force take it," I growled. "Now, at least, you will understand my aching old knees."

You chuckled. "And you shall understand and perhaps not grumble about my... uh... early-morning..."

I burst out laughing as _such_ a vivid image of you reached me: nuzzling against me as you so often did before our alarm call; your body hard and insistent, even in sleep.

"Well that will be interesting, Padawan," I mused. "It's been a long time since _I_ have woken in such a state."

You joined my laughter, then wrinkled your nose. "You'd better stop eating that disgusting gloop for morning meal..."

"Porridge is good for you," I teased.

"Well I don't want to taste the stuff! It looks like... like... eurgh!"

A shared giggle and I reached for you once more, feeling my touch echoed on my body.

"There is _one_ thing that I'm intrigued to find out more of," I murmured.

"Oh?" You smiled, as I leaned in closer.

"What it feels like to be made love to by Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn," I whispered, tasting my own kisses in my mouth. "And you, my Padawan shall know how sweet it is to have my own beautiful apprentice writhing against me..."

Force-alive, but _this_ was going to be... interesting!


	4. Taste

** sense ~ 4 ~ taste **

_In the wood there is a bird, its song makes you stop and blush.  
There is a clock that never strikes.  
There is a hole in the ground with a nest of white animals.  
There is a cathedral that plunges down and a lake that rises up.  
There is a small cart left there in the copse, or which runs down the track with its ribbons flying.  
There is a troupe of little actors in costume, glimpsed on the road through the outskirts of the wood.  
And then, when you feel hungry and thirsty, there is someone who chases you away._

[Rimbaud: "Childhood - III", from "Illuminations"]

*******

We were still on the floor and I wondered briefly whether you would not be more comfortable upon the bed. I had already forgotten your presence in my mind, and when it whispered, "no" to me, I was startled. I moved away from you, watching you get to your feet. You gazed down at me, mischief dancing in your eyes.

"I think my master is far too overdressed," you murmured, the small furrow appearing once more between your eyebrows as you concentrated on willing the Force to your bidding. I could feel my belt unbuckling itself and sliding from about my waist. My sash was drawn from me by invisible fingers of power, and my gaze remained locked on you.

You were experiencing each movement with me, feeling the heavy material being gently removed, whispering roughly across your bare skin even as it fell to the floor around me. Your lips were parted and your eyelids fluttered as you fought for enough concentration to divest me of my remaining garments until I lay naked on the floor. 

"The carpet is rough," you murmured, and indeed, it was; rough on the skin of my back.

You looked down at me, then, and I saw myself through your eyes, with all your attendant emotions. I am not a vain man, but the vision I saw and the love and desire that coloured it made me shiver.

Through my own, analytical eyes, I saw a large, dishevilled man with long tousled hair, lying on the floor; a strange, unfathomable expression on his face. But then I saw myself through your eyes...

I was not large, but strong; powerfully-built and yet gentle. I gleaned a sense of the awesome presence of a big catlike creature; great and graceful, yet immeasurably dangerous.

I was not dishevilled, but desirous; undone and needful. Flickers of images teased me: whisper of raw silk, smoothness of warm leather, chatter of cold chain; and I began to crumble.

My hair was not merely tousled, but begged to be touched, to be caressed and stroked. It shone in the low light, framing and caressing my face, speaking in a soft voice of unbridled passion, of myself newly-woken in the morning sunshine.

I trembled as I saw that you did not perceive me simply lying on the floor. I _dominated_ it; my limbs no longer rawboned and angular, but fluid and beautiful in their restrained strength. Easy to tear a body to pieces with those arms; to kick a man senseless with the muscle in those legs... but just as simple to enfold warm, willing flesh with both, cradling my beloved to me with everything that I am.

And the expression in my eyes - unfathomable to me - was a chasm of desire that my Padawan would abandon his world for; to leap, unheeding of danger, into. My eyes would accept him, close around him, drown him...

This, then, was what I saw, and it shook me. For long moments I was unable to move, to breathe, simply gazing at you until a slow, delicate flush edged your cheekbones. 

You were doing as I had: seeing yourself through _my_ eyes. I caught your own thoughts of yourself: short; inelegant; ugly hair that you resented the cut of... Nose too large; strange eyes and... oh yes - I smiled - a silly rat tail of hair dangling from behind your ear.

_No, love. No rat tail, but a sign of what we are to each other. A sign of my love and care for you and a sign of your devotion to me... and of your bondage to me_

I gave you that word deliberately, noting the way your colour rose still further. After all, had we not just bonded in that brief, intense interlude of blinding light and emotion?

_Not short, beloved, but slender and taut as a drawn bow. Soft skin hiding such steel, such danger. Inelegant? Blessed boy; you hold grace and sleekness beyond measure! Adept at concealing both, you cannot keep your true nature from your Master. I have watched the way you move for years and none is so like the Force in human form as yourself_

You parted your lips, forming a protest that died as I sent a powerful image of you locked in my embrace; hard up against a wall, crushed beneath me, crying out for me. Your eyes widened; your protest lost in the half-strangled sob of desire that left you.

_Your strange eyes, delightful one... oh yes, they are strange. Changeable as the skies: warm as woodsmoke and clear as water; one minute ocean, the next deep blue ice. Sometimes I could swear I see clouds drifting across your eyes, beloved..._

You licked your lips, then; soft, pink tongue slicking over dry, trembling fullness. With a gentle touch of the Force I untucked the towel that cradled your slender hips and it slid to the floor to pool like soft snow at your feet. I groaned softly, opening my arms to you.

_Sweet, beautiful boy... come to me..._

The touch of two skins felt through two sets of nerves almost undid me. I drew on everything that I had within me to cope with the sensations that blasted me as you settled into my arms. A low moan left your lips as you arched instinctively into me and I almost sobbed as your pleasure knifed through my mind.

The sensations were too much. I tried to detach myself from them, but found that they had wound themselves around me as tightly as a strangling vine. I could no more break free than I could resist the tremble of your lower lip. I kissed you, and it nearly killed me.

"Gods, Obi..." I groaned, tasting your mouth. "You are so sweet..."

My tongue dipped deeper, and an echoing caress from you made me pull your body hard down onto mine. Hearing your plaintive whine, I loosened my grip; realising that you, too, were experiencing this incredible awareness that was close to breaking my mind.

_Breaking our minds... Obi, that's what it is doing... breaking open our minds until nothing is left but our emotions_

All coherence had flown from the consciousness that had merged with mine. I followed your thoughts and found only two words; blended into one song:

_fuckmefuckmefuckme_

"Obi-Wan!" I cried aloud; my voice desperate, my hands now feverishly pushing you away from me, wrestling you to the floor. Holding you down... stroking a teasing hand inside your thigh and feeling the caress returned through the bond... my mouth on your skin, revelling in the heat and salt beneath my tongue and knowing your ghost-tongue on my own flesh... watching you lick your lips as you tasted me, even though your mouth was unclaimed, untouched at that moment... 

I touched two fingers to those lips, almost screaming as my own lips bore the unbearable tickling sensation. You allowed those fingers into your mouth, curling your tongue around them, taking them sensually; doing to them what I would have you do to... no... I didn't think I could bear that much pleasure... not yet...

Withdrawing my fingers, I reached down. The softest of touches and your body opened to me like a flower to the suns. As I pressed my fingers forward I resisted the natural urge to turn to see who was doing this very same thing that I did to you, to me. If I was like this using only my fingers, how in all the Sith hells would it feel when I...?

_fuckmefuckmefuckme_

"Obi, _don't!_" I groaned, unable to bear the screaming need that exuded from you and filled my senses. This mantra was all you had now; the very core of your being exposed. The bond had broken you down to pure emotion, pure need; and I was rapidly following. Soon, very soon, I would no longer be capable of lucidity.

A brief, crazy thought filled my head; almost the last sane one I experienced for a while.

_I hope my shields hold out, or else half the damned galaxy will be fucking you, Obi-wan..._

I withdrew my fingers, earning from your lips a sound that sent flames along my spine; a deep groan of longing that caught hold of me, shook me, turned me upside down and slapped the last remaining sense out of me.

I was lost. Lost in you.

***

Heat...

Soft... slick... heat...

More...

Limbs... fluid... embrace...

Yes...

Deeper... there...

Mine...

Harder... oh... yes...

Always...

Yes... always...

Beautiful...

More... want... more...

Mine...

Yes... Master... yes...

Feel...

Yessssss...

***

_Obi-Wan?_

Warmth nuzzled against me, duality dulled for a moment.

_Obi-wan?_

_Master_

Mind-voice like a sinful angel.

_Master, I'm..._

_Yes? You're what?_

_Yours, Master. Always yours_

Holding tightly, never letting go. 

_Yes... mine..._


	5. Sound

**sense ~ 5 ~ sound**

_On the roads, on winter nights, without shelter, without clothes, without food, a voice would clutch at my frozen heart: 'Weakness or strength: take a look at yourself, there's strength in you. You don't know where you are going or why, go everywhere, respond to everything. You've no more risk of being killed than a corpse has.' In the morning my gaze was so vacant and my expression so dead that the people I encountered possibly didn't even see me._

[Rimbaud: "Bad Blood", from "A Season In Hell"] 

*******

Silence, save your breath. The room vibrated with a strange peace; almost as if it had come alive and was existing there with us.

Beauty incarnate beside me in an elegant sprawl of golden silky skin and tumbled white sheets. One leg across my thighs, one arm flung loosely, possessively, across my chest; your cheek pillowed against my shoulder. Just looking at your unconscious face, even more beautiful in unguarded sleep, filled me with an incredible contentment.

I finally _belonged_.

Somewhere in the distance the night bell sounded; a single tone that echoed softly down corridors and halls. The note was like a meditation; pure in form and on many an occasion I had sat quietly, waiting for it. I had even, in a moment of great introspection after... after Xanatos... had even composed a kata around it: the final movement needing precise timing to fall exactly upon the sounding of the bell.

You stirred in your slumber, your fingers twining in my hair, gently and unconsciously twisting and twirling it. I smiled to myself as this simple action shot me back several years to the young boy you once were, twirling your stubby Padawan braid in your sleep. How the sight of that had made me ache...

You sighed; your warm breath coursing over my throat and sending a shudder winging through me. A faint mutter left your lips as you wriggled for a moment and then settled. Reaching out a hand, I gently stroked your hair, smoothing down the tousles and spikes that you always seemed to acquire during sleep.

Skin so warm as it nuzzled mine, you radiated heat and light into me: heat through your flesh and light through the new bond. I saw the dreams that flitted across your mind; butterfly thoughts that never settled. Images of sound, of sky, of sea, of blue eyes, of me.

I never knew that you dreamt of me, love; although I should have guessed it. After all, you filled my own sleeping thoughts, and many of my waking ones.

It was so quiet, so peaceful...

I closed my eyes and listened to you breathe. Soft sounds, regular and reassuring. Lungs would never stop breathing, heart would never cease beating: you would never stop existing. Even if one of us were to die___

You stirred restlessly and, belatedly, I remembered that not only were your thoughts mine; mine were also yours. A frown had creased the skin between your eyebrows and I smoothed it with a kiss.

_Always one, love. Never apart, no matter what happens in the future_

You settled, then, and I rested my head back against the pillows, listening once more. I always listen, my love. Scent and sound are the strongest of memories; did you know that? I adore your sounds: your soft sleeping breath; your voice in the 'fresher as you sing in the morning; your cries when we make love; your laughter; even the sound of your tears. You have only wept twice in my presence, yet the sound of your grief is imprinted on my heart.

"Master?"

The word I loved to hear you say. You managed to imbue it with so much more than the simple reference to a teacher that it implies.

"Yes, Obi-Wan?" I was surprised to hear my voice sound so hoarse with emotion.

"Master, is everything alright? I can sense your restlessness."

Your concern touched me more deeply than you could ever have known, and I kissed your lips.

"I'm fine, love. Go back to sleep."

"If you're sure..." Your voice was drowsy, yet still doubtful. I hesitated.

"Master, kiss me and everything will be fine," you said suddenly.

As if I could refuse an offer like that...

Soft, moist lips upon mine, the double shock of a shared soul, and a gentle mind-touch so subtle that I scarcely noticed it. You gave me inexpressible comfort, unconditional love and... I chuckled... a little Force-nudge in the direction of soothing sleep.

"You care for me in every little way, don't you?" I whispered as you finally drew away. I kissed your forehead as you settled against me once more. "Beloved boy..."

"Of course I do," you mumbled, already sliding into sleep. "You're my Master and I love you..."

The room fell silent once more, echoing faintly to the sound of those last three words and your soft, sleeping breath.

Yes, love; I've heard your tears but twice: the first time one week ago, the second only last night. Your dreams fill me: sudden nightmares of pain and fear that I quickly move to stifle. A gentle touch of my mind calms you, like placing a damp blanket over licking flames.

_Sleep, love. I am here_

You quieten immediately, murmuring softly. It hurts me so much to have to share these dreams with you. Living these tortured twists of your mind, trying to prevent dark shadows from scarring your sleep; this is torment beyond belief. Sometimes I feel so helpless...

Oh, love... Who would have guessed that your poised beauty and whipcord strength hides such terrors in the night?

And I, with my stupid bull-headedness, have only gone and made it worse for you; exactly one week ago... 


	6. Force

**sense ~ 6 ~ force**

_I lived in his soul as if it were a palace that had been emptied so that no one would see someone as unworthy as oneself: that is all there is to it._

[Rimbaud: "First Delerium", from "A Season In Hell"] 

*******

One week. That is all it has been. Your scream had split me from my own pain; allowing me to concentrate myself wholly inside your mind, tempering much of your raging fury and grief. It took a lot out of me, exhausting me even as I guided your enraged thrusts, swipes and parries; trying to channel them into coherence.

I felt inordinate pride as I sensed your oneness with the Force. At that second you were utterly in the moment; almost visually blind, guided by instinct, always ready to block that terrible double-red attack. Thank the Force that you were fond of acrobatic fighting, for this... thing... was carving its body through the air as if this were merely a game. And you matched it, move for move, somersaulting over and back, leaping from its more frenetic slashes.

Single-red. You had cleaved its 'sabre, gathering a swift breath and redoubling your assault; fighting in the manner to which you were more accustomed.

A brief disturbance in the Force shook me as it thrust out a hand, and suddenly you were falling. Instinct made you reach out, grabbing onto the slipperiest and smallest of handholds as above you it sent your lightsabre handle skittering down into oblivion. The red demon then struck the edge of the melting pit with its sole-bladed 'sabre, showering you with tiny, white-hot sparks. Yellow eyes glared fiercely down at you, simply waiting until your fingers would grow numb and lose their grip.

But then you sensed me within you; your fury tamped down in a moment of centering and the thought of me turned your mind away from fear and fury. I felt you gathering the Force to you, heard a faint rattle, and then you surged up from the pit. My own fallen 'sabre flew to your hand, igniting instantly as it swept in a beautiful arc of green fire, cleaving the beast in two.

The bond weakened then. I could feel your tears rousing me back to my pain-racked body. Feebly, I dispersed the worst of it into the Force, but the warmth of salt water on my lips gave me an even greater pain.

The bond of One wrapped itself around us as the Force prepared to tear us apart. It shielded us both in a cocoon of love in those final living moments. I could feel my consciousness streaming into you as the bond joined us irrevocably in one mind: the only remaining, living mind. Yours.

I heard my own final breath, saw my own dying moments through your tear-filled eyes.

_Master, don't leave me_

I tried to reach out to you, but the bond was blazing with energy; still pouring me into you. Your despair shattered me even as it broke you. Your faith in the bond was destroyed as you watched my body die and sensed nothing of me in your mind.

And then your breath hissed in as a rush of light entered your consciousness. Your body froze, still clutching mine as the bond merged. A tiny, strangled whimper of anguish left your lips and I realised that you thought the bond was being rent asunder.

***

I know now that I drifted for days...

***

Darkness. I had no conception of time or place. I could see nothing; hear, taste and smell nothing. I reached out, tentatively along the bond.

It wasn't there.

Panicked, I tried once more; scrabbling for the touch of your mind.

Nothing.

And then, far-distant; almost beyond hearing... faint sobs. Sobs torn from an anguished heart. A sudden roaring sound filled my entire existence - whatever my existence was - and the darkness cleared.

I was in a dimly-lit room that I recognised instantly. My _own_ room, back at the Temple. I was in bed, it was night-time and the only illumination came from the reflected lights of Coruscant's eternal traffic.

Why was my face wet? Why did my head feel so light and cool? And oh... why did my heart ache so much?

The whimpering sound filled the room; low sobs of agony that I realised were being ripped from my own lips. I gulped them down and willed myself to stand. Walking slowly, unsteadily into the 'fresher, my body felt peculiar: light and slightly woozy. Had I not died, then? Had I been found in time and healed? 

No. I had no memories of healing; a quick mental search told me. Just those of pain, light and confusion.

I splashed water on my face; and at that precise moment I froze. Slowly, I touched my face; my cheeks and chin...

I hardly dared raise my eyes to the mirror as the intense realisation hit me. I knew what I would see a split second before I saw it, but it still rocked me to the core.

The face I saw reflected was not my own. It was _yours_. Your beautiful, tender young face, staring back at me with eyes that flickered from green to blue. I felt my lips move but I had no idea what they were about to say.

"Master?"

A tentative whisper, almost fearful. I tried the bond once more.

_Padawan_

"Oh... Gods!" Relief flooded me; so tangible that I could taste it as it permeated the air and my... _your_... lips formed the words: "Master, I thought you had left me!"

_I am here, Obi-Wan; as I always was_

"Damn it all..." You frowned. "This feels... it feels crazy! Where is the bond? I can't find it. I've been trying all week, but___"

_It has changed. We have no need for it as it was. Gone I may be, but I am still within you, deeper than ever. I see through your beautiful eyes... beloved boy, I am within you as I could never have dreamed. I am you; every essence of you_

And it was wonderful.

Huge eyes gazed back at me in the mirror, welling up with tears as you grappled to sort out the mental aspect of this; separating my mind-voice from your own.

_But, Master_ you finally managed _I cannot touch you_

_Touch yourself and I feel you_

A brief, crazy grin lit your face. It looked more than a little hysterical.

_Master, I want to touch you. Your body. Your strength. Your body is gone; I watched it burn_

I could feel the bond rippling around me, nudging me like an excited puppy wanting to play; like a small child with a secret it is desperate to tell. I opened myself to it, and suddenly I _knew_.

_Back to bed, Obi-Wan_

_Master?_

_As you love me, so trust me. Back to bed_

These powerful young legs that were now mine - oh, the bliss of healthy knees! - carried us both back to my bed. _My_ bed, I realised with a breathtaking rush of love. Old sheets, old pillow; still holding my faint scent. You could not bear to lose me totally...

You settled down and waited with closed eyes and complete faith in me. I touched the bond and it flared up, gathering the Force, binding it and making it tangible.

_Think of me, my love. Think of your master; of how he looked_

Images of myself flitted across my mind, accompanied by emotions that made me alternately gasp and whimper. The tendrils of Force grew and wound, becoming solid, taking form.

_Master, what is happening?_

_Hush. Trust me_

You acquiesced without a murmur. With your eyes closed I could not see what was taking shape, but I could sense it building beside your now trembling body. Suddenly, the surge died down and the bond nudged me once more.

_Now, reach out_

This hand moved, shaking; stretching across the bed to touch warm flesh. The eyes I waited patiently behind flew open and the cry that left these lips was both yours and mine.

"Master..." One broken word left this mouth as you rolled over against... against _me_.

A Force Form; easy to control by thought and utterly real to you. I reached out to it mentally, slipping my mind into it and suddenly I was _there_. Still in your head, but also in this strange, shifting Force-whirlwind that had given me a body once more, however temporary.

My new arms enfolded you, nerve ends tingling as I touched your quivering warmth. My fingertips skittered over your face and suddenly I could hold back no more. I kissed you with an urgency I had never experienced before; rejoicing in the feel of your lips trembling and then opening beneath my onslaught.

Your mouth... your beautiful, sweet mouth... tasting it again was the most wonderful thing. Feeling your hands on me again as we locked together was just... indescribable. You were shaking violently, your face wet with tears of grief and joy, your hands pulling me into the closest of contact; unable to relinquish what you thought you had lost forever.

_Master... Master... Master..._

I needed no more than a few tendrils of the Force; touching you intimately, feeling your body opening like a flower to me as your thighs slid around my hips. Enfolded in heat and urgency I thrust gently into your mind even as I took your body.

Your pleasure blasted me as I watched through the eyes I had been gifted for this night. Every sensation that I should have felt from this act still shuddered through me, even though this body was nothing but Force. Every shiver of your body, every flicker of muscle, every flip of your stomach, every yelp, every ounce of urgency... I felt them all as you moved sweetly against me; your hips matching my every move with all the strength that you possessed.

It was pure, primal Force, and it was incredible.

Holding onto the thread of sanity that I still clutched amid this unreal passion, I watched ecstasy wash your face like a wave. You arched up off the bed and I enfolded you in my arms, cradling you to me; my eyes drinking in your pleasure. Your mental howl of release shot me through and this Force-formed body came deep into you, melting against you like hot steel.

Sinking back slowly, I felt the bond nudging me once more.

_Give me the remainder of this night_ I begged it _Let me keep this body, let him rest in my arms, just this one night..._

Your eyes opened; pale and luminous in the dim light.

"Every night," you whispered, even as the realisation found me as well. Thanks to the bond, we would have this gift always.

Together, as one.

**~ FIN ~**


End file.
